


Balance

by WritLarge



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Damian is a reluctant not-cupid, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Wingfic, other characters show up in the background
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Under quota? Damian fumed at the message he’d been given. He’d yet to determine who it was that set the damned quota, but when he did...“Come on, little D. It’s not so bad.”Damian flexed his wings, hisfluffy white wings, and scowled.





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youcantsaymylastname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantsaymylastname/gifts).



Under quota? Damian fumed at the message he’d been given. He’d yet to determine who it was that set the damned quota, but when he did...

“Come on, little D. It’s not so bad.”

Damian flexed his wings, his _fluffy white wings_ , and scowled. Grayson didn’t understand. He liked being Cherubim. Damian, however, was mixed blood and highly preferred his bat wings. They’d revert eventually, he’d make sure of that, but it was still annoying.

Grayson smiled at him lopsidedly, “You’re adorable like this.”

Damian hissed at him, but the older angel just laughed and patted him on the head. Why was he cursed with a mentor such as this?

Fucking quota. 

It could have been worse. Grayson was ever chipper, but largely sensible. Damian could have been denied a place here at all with the circumstance of his birth, but Father had dubiously accepted him perhaps in part because Grayson had volunteered to help guide Damian in his role.

His role, or rather, burden. He was supposed to match human partners, finding compatible pairs and pushing them along. The problem was, if he excelled at his job Damian’s form would shift towards his father’s bloodline. His leathery wings would sprout feathers, his hair would soften, and even his clothing would betray him. He’d put a lot of work into his black and red leather uniform. Having it turn to silk or change so that the colours bled into yellows and greens was irksome.

Of course, he didn’t want to be bad at his job either. Father would be disappointed and, whatever issues he had with the angelic side of his family, Damian had no desire to return to his mother’s domain. Not while his grandfather reigned at any rate. That meant that he had to walk a tightrope. Finding just the right balance to both show his competence and maintain his dignity.

Adorable he was not.

And he was no Cupid either. He refused to use the traditional arrows. Instead, Damian personally crafted his own darts and shuriken. They worked well and he thought that Father had been impressed (or at least intrigued) by his ingenuity. Humans weren’t harmed by the projectiles. When they struck, they delivered their magic and vanished. In truth, he didn’t even need to use them, as a simple touch would be effective. And satisfying.

“Damian!” The cry was about as loud as the slap he’d just delivered to his target, though only he and Grayson would be able to hear it.

“Tt, what now?” Damian peered down at the man he’d struck. His target had fallen backwards onto the sidewalk and landed exactly where he’d intended, in the path of another man.

“You can’t just slap people.”

“Why not? It’s not as though they can see me,” he gestured at the people passing by. 

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing. You aren’t my supervisor.” Grayson opened his mouth the protest, but Damian interrupted him. “Wait a moment.”

Damian pushed against the neck of the second man so that he toppled into the first. There was an odd compatibility there that he could sense, not as bright as some, but enough. He smirked as he watched them flounder.

“Damn it.”

“Fuck. Sorry.”

The two men locked eyes. It sounded cliched, but it happened nine times out of ten. Thankfully, these two were able to shake it off quickly and get to their feet.

“You need a hand?” The first man gestured at the books that were strewn across the sidewalk, the box they’d been in split open from the fall.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem. I’m Tim.”

“Jason.”

Damian glared at the two of them, watching as they gravitated closer to one another. Their hands brushed, breaths quickened... odd. He’d expected more resistance. A rougher match. Instead, the darker coloured connection became more lustrous and fierce.

Oh no.

Damian flared out his wings. They hadn’t reverted. They were, however, shimmering with glitter.

“Huh. I guess you found a perfect match. Good job, little D. Though maybe less violence next time?” Grayson neatly dodged the fist Damian swung in his direction. “Otherwise, you’re doing great!”

The compliment rankled. There had to be another way. Glitter was _unacceptable_.


End file.
